


maybe there ain't no mercy for either of us

by captainhurricane



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: M/M, bb/kaz only hinted though, little bit of knifeplay, some mentions of torture but nothing explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:48:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ocelot takes a break. Snake offers him one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	maybe there ain't no mercy for either of us

It's the truth that things change, people change, life goes on mercilessly for each one of us, leaves us the shell of what we used to be. A gunshot broke the utter silence of a field of flowers once. The wind scattered the white petals to the far-away horizon, like some lost symbol for innocence that had existed in a soldier's mind. A gunshot was heard and a soldier smiled for the very last time. 

Life knows no mercy, that is the truth. The soldier who goes on still remembers the smell of those white flowers from the day when sky was burnt orange and his mentor was still- I'm doing the right thing, the soldier thinks and crushes a mirror under his boot. I'm doing the right thing. He doesn't think what his mentor, what she would think of all this. He's molded her into an idealistic ghost inside himself, built a shrine and lit a candle. In her memory. His fingers smell like gunpowder daily now, the stench of blood and smoke etched so deep into his bones it won't come out until the day his corpse is laid down to decay. 

”Boss?” He doesn't move, hands on his lap. Head thrown back like relaxed but instead it's memories he's dipped himself into.   
”Snake?” He blinks, comes to. The electric rods don't rattle anymore and there are no screams. The figure in his black hood doesn't move, sits slumped in the chair. Ocelot has one hand curled around a rod, the other one on the shoulder of the figure. He's panting slighty, his features knife-sharp in the darkness.

”Ocelot,” Snake murmurs and stands up. Ocelot's thin lips have stretched into a grin, his spurs clink as he steps away from the chair, lets the rod drop. The figure in the chair groans.  
”I'd think this isn't so boring to you that you have to daydream, boss,” Ocelot speaks with that utter self-confidence, every word coming out of his mouth with no hesitation. His fingers now reach his belt and tuck themselves around it.   
”What did he say?” Says Snake instead, his only eye fixed on the slumped figure. He has dug up a cigar, has lit it. Ocelot finds himself gulping when that heavy gaze settles on him. He licks his lips.   
”He confessed. Every word,” Ocelot steps closer, fingers around his belt, close to his revolvers; twelve shots once, more later. Chin high, proud glint in the sharp blue eyes. The lights in this room are dim and paint their faces in red, make the bloodstains on Ocelot's gloves look like ink. Snake hums thoughtfully and blows a puff of grey smoke to Ocelot's direction.   
A deep breath.   
God, the room stinks. The body stinks.   
”Boss,” Ocelot licks his lips again, gaze dropping lower. Snake huffs and it sounds like laughter; how odd, Ocelot thinks. When Snake's joy has left him into the midst of white, white flowers.  
”You know what to do with him. After that, come to my office. Don't bother washing up.” Snake leaves in the middle of grey smoke and the gleam of his prosthetic hand. To Ocelot it looks like Snake was the one to dip his fingers in blood instead of him. 

X

Snake is not in his office; well, it's not his exactly but since his second-in-command is still out of order- when Ocelot steps inside without knocking.   
”Huh.” There is a pile of papers on the mahogany desk, the window is open a crack. A seagull cries in the dull night air that Ocelot can smell seeping in. He twirls his revolver and leans against the wall outside of the room, waiting. He has ditched his scarf, has opened his jacket a scratch. The satisfaction of the torture has left a sweet taste to his mouth, heavy weight of heat between his legs. The tingling on his tongue as he watched that needle slide into the neck of today's man, who had breathed hard and panicked, eyes wide and struggling against his bindings. I told you- urgh- already! Oh, how Ocelot had nearly purred at that, stepped around the chair and the man like the prowling predator he's taken his name from. 

A pleased smirk spreads slowly to Ocelot's face as he hears the familiar heavy footsteps, only stops twirling his revolver and watching its silver go around and around when Snake stands in front of him, watching him.  
”Snake,” Ocelot says, doesn't salute. Doesn't bow. The smell of smoke and fire slithers from Snake's skin and Ocelot hums, dares to press a hand against Snake's back to urge him inside the room. The door closes with a resounding click. 

Snake doesn't say a word, doesn't give Ocelot the chance to do anything as he turns around and pushes him against the door. The kiss is what it is, teeth clanking together and more than once grazing against lips and the wetness of their tongues. Ocelot takes it as it is, manages to tug off his gloves and drop them, only to grab Snake's lapels and keep him there.   
”Boss,” he groans when the kiss breaks with a resounding smack and Snake's hand; the one that's still flesh and blood thankfully, tugs Ocelot's belt open and pushes itself in. They rut against each other like the animals they are, Snake growling and tugging until Ocelot is clinging to him and groaning. Only then does Snake give Ocelot's head a push and not give in until Ocelot sinks to his knees. 

”You know, you could have anyone in here doing this-” the rest comes out as garbled mess when Snake curls his metal fingers into Ocelot's white strands and pushes, Ocelot's every single sense filled at that moment with Snake, with Big Boss, this venomous beast of a man who is leaning against the door now and gazing down. Ocelot tugs Snake's cock free from its briefs but doesn't bother to lower his pants more than to his thighs, already eager to wrap his mouth around it.   
”As I was saying,” Ocelot murmurs and takes a moment to inhale. His own cock is a hard bulge in his pants so Ocelot goes about to freeing it, to wrapping his free hand around it.   
”You could have anyone.” Ocelot licks, Snake answers with a grunt and the tightening grip of his prosthetic fingers.   
”So I'm pleased it's me,” Ocelot concludes with roughness in his voice, with a twisted tilt of his mouth until he starts sucking. Snake keeps a hand on Ocelot's head, one dark eyes on the bobbing of that same head, even when his grip tightens and his hips start moving until Ocelot gags.   
”Go on,” Snake murmurs, his voice barely audible in the stuffy silence of the room. Ocelot dutifully continues, corners of his lips curling up whenever he backs away to sucking just the tip or glancing up into the unmoving gaze. 

Too soon, way too soon Snake tugs on Ocelot's strands and makes him stand up. They kiss, as teeth-clashing and violent as just now and Ocelot has to smirk, to brush his fingers over the eyepatch he knows covers an empty socket.   
”Didn't beg you for the gentle type, boss,” is hissed through now-bloodied, roughened lips when Snake seems content just doing this, reaching his fingers under Ocelot's trousers and rubbing his ass. It's a play with fire-type of thing, of course, Ocelot knows full well of the rage boiling under the scarred skin, knows the man he met years ago in a Soviet jungle has come a long, corpse-filled way. And then Snake growls and reaches a hand behind himself; oh, yes; and out comes one of his knives, gleaming and beautiful and clean. Ocelot's tongue flips over his lips, once, twice. Perhaps nerves, perhaps just igniting himself deeper.   
”Fuck,” Ocelot huffs as the steel bites into his neck and goes lower, presses itself against his bare chest; his jacket and shirt ripped open by a steel hand.   
”Yes,” Snake murmurs and his teeth bite down on Ocelot's shoulders, the steel of his knife cold as it slithers against Ocelot's nipples and nibbles on his skin. Ocelot scrambles to reach their cocks, to continue the momentarily stopped friction but Snake presses himself hard against him, the knife reaching Ocelot's lips, the prosthetic hand continuing to rub Ocelot's buttocks, his skin warming up the cold steel. 

”Ffff-” Ocelot starts to say and whines as a steel finger probes his entrance. The corners of Snake's scarred lips twitch into a half-grin.   
”Lick,” he whispers, the tip of his steel finger gathering up some pre-cum and reaching around again, massaging the entrance. Ocelot's tongue flicks out to touch the cold surface of the knife, to sweep itself against its side and eyes never leaving Snake's. It continues for a moment, the tease of steel on Ocelot's lips and his behind, Snake filling up his senses with a grunt and a bite, by telling Ocelot to take off his trousers all the way, to be prepared. The knife clatters to the ground to Ocelot's disappointment and during one teeth-clattering kiss, two of Snake's lubed-up fingers breach Ocelot's entrance and push, push, curl just the right way to make Ocelot whine. Neither speaks, neither can speak when Ocelot throws his head back and moans, wraps a leg around Snake's waist and clings to his broad frame. Semen drips from their cocks that brush by each other everytime one of them moves. 

”Fuck, Snake-” Snake licks the taste of sweat and death from Ocelot's neck and switches his fingers finally with his cock. The initial breach is slow and almost careful, Snake's beard scratchy against Ocelot's shoulder. Snake gives no warnings, nothing as he grasps Ocelot's back with his steely fingers and moves his hips. Ocelot's mind goes blank after that as Snake starts a rhythm, knowing just the right angles, knowing how hard to press to leave bruises for next day. Powerful thrusts send Ocelot scrambling for some balance and finding none except from Snake's shoulders so he clings, slips his fingers inside Snake's jacket to scratch long, red lines and kissing, kissing Snake's beard, his neck, his throat and then on the mouth, muffling down his own moans and Snake's growls.   
”S-Snake-”   
”Shut up,” Snake slips a hand between them and grabs Ocelot's cock. He snaps his hips forward faster, driving Ocelot against the door harder, uncaring if something rips, only desiring to hear and see the white strands tangled, strong limbs shaking.   
”Tomorrow,” Snake grunts, panting against Ocelot's ear, biting his ear.   
”I have a new session for you for tomorrow,” he huffs and doesn't stop thrusting even when Ocelot's entire body shakes as he climaxes.   
”Oh,” Ocelot manages, panting hard and trying to hold on and delighting in the sweat-slick sound of sex. Snake doesn't continue until he has left a dent to the wooden door from his steel hand, until he has pulled out and let it spill on that waiting face, to the open mouth. Ocelot wipes his face and hums.   
”So. Not that I mind this-” He gestures around himself and coughs, rubs his throat. ”-but what's up with the extra intimacy?” He gets up on shaky legs and accepts the towel Snake throws to him. Snake huffs, has already pulled on his clothes, pulled out another cigar. He sends one particular look towards Ocelot and goes to open the window more, to sit down on his chair. Ocelot raises his eyebrows at the silence.  
”Is it Miller? Has he woken up then?” That could almost be a real smile there, in the middle of the scars and heaviness that seems to have settled permanently to Snake's shoulders.   
”Kaz will be joining us soon,” Snake says.   
”Huh. See you later, Snake,” Ocelot watches as the peace slides away from Snake's face, to the quiet contemplation and for a moment wants to know what truly goes through that head. 

Snake closes his eye and leans back, body pleasantly warm and pliant from Ocelot, mind as it always is as he had watched the rise and fall of Kaz's chest, of the dark eyes blinking up at the light. Boss? Snake had told him to rest, had not taken on the subject of prosthetics. Had only watched and guarded. I'll always be with you, he thinks and says aloud but Kaz had already dropped back to his medicine-induced sleep, leaving Snake to Ocelot and to the white flower-petals always stuck in the wind in his mind. Always, always, always.

**Author's Note:**

> the new trailer halsfkhfldhsl let's just have a murder orgy and be horrible war criminals together, Big Boss.


End file.
